


Promises, Promises

by Jenksel



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Casskins, F/M, Girls' Night Out, Gossip, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Married Casskins, Oaths, Trial of the One referenced, Waffles!, married Cassandra / Jenkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 03:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenksel/pseuds/Jenksel
Summary: Eve lets the cat out of the bag about Jenkins's thoughts on leaving the Library.  Takes place several weeks after "Sunset Boulevard".





	Promises, Promises

Colonel Eve Baird and Cassandra Cillian Jenkins tripped out a restroom stall located in the ladies’ room of their favorite breakfast place, The Clackamas Waffle Iron.  It was actually late in the evening, but The Waffle Iron served nothing but breakfast cuisine 24-hours a day. Plus they had the best coffee in Oregon as far as Eve was concerned.  This was just the first stop on her and Cassandra’s latest “girls’ night out’ excursions, a very welcome break from the men of the Library where the two women could relax, bond and share some girl talk.  Later they were planning to take in a movie, then stop by a small club to have a few drinks as a nightcap and maybe some dancing.

Cassandra took a quick look around the restroom and sighed in relief that no one else was around to witness their awkward entrance.  She and Eve exited and quickly made their way to the hostess station at the entrance to the restaurant, slipping unobtrusively to the back of the short line of patrons waiting to be seated.

After a short wait they were escorted to a small table next to a window that had a decent view of the street.  Cassandra loved to ‘people watch’, so she was delighted.  The two women slid into their seats and took the proffered menus from the hostess.  A waiter came a few seconds later and took their drink orders:  Iced jasmine green tea for Cassandra, black decaf coffee for Eve.  By the time he returned with their beverages, they were ready to order.  Each chose the house specialty, which was, of course, waffles.  Cassandra ordered plain Belgian waffles topped with fresh fruit and whipped cream, while Eve chose the “s’mores waffles”, made of graham flour and topped with marshmallow crème, melted chocolate and tiny chocolate chips, with just a sprinkling of toasted pecans on top.  As they waited for their orders, the women chatted about the daily goings-on at the Library, their latest missions, things they had learned about various artifacts.  They had just started gossiping about their men when their orders arrived.

Cassandra gave a quick, happy squeal and clapped her hands as the waiter set a huge plate of thick, freshly-made waffles in front of her.  Eve couldn’t help but rub her hands lightly together at the sight of her own order, her mouth watering as the smell of warm waffles and chocolate wafted into her nostrils.  As each tasted her selection, there were delighted groans and the ecstatic closing of eyes as they savored their choices.  After several blissful bites in silence, Eve picked up the thread of their conversation.

“Cassandra,” she began, swallowing a mouthful of waffle.  “There’s something I’ve been _dying_ to ask you, but it’s kinda personal, so if you don’t want to talk about it, just say ‘Eve, shut up and eat your damn waffles’ and I’ll totally drop it!”

“Ask me what?” the redhead replied, spearing a chunk of strawberry with her fork and then looking up expectantly.  Eve took a deep breath.

“You and Jenkins,” she said, pitching her voice low and leaning in, not wanting anyone to overhear her.  “How is… _it_ …with you two?”  Cassandra stopped chewing and stared at the blonde, completely confused.

“How is what?” she asked.  Baird leaned in even further.

“How is... _you know_...?”  She waved her hand.  The Librarian simply stared at her uncomprehendingly.  Eve sighed; so much for delicacy.

“How is the _sex_?” she whispered, barely audible.  Cassandra’s eyes popped open wide and her cheeks turned pink.  She dropped her eyes to the waffles on her plate, and Baird almost told her to forget about the invasive question.  The Librarian’s personal life with her husband was none of her damn business anyway—what on earth had possessed her to ask such a thing in the first place?  She opened her mouth to say as much, but Cassandra suddenly broke into soft, shy giggles.

“Omigod, Eve—it’s _fantastic_!” she said quietly, casting a cautious glance sideways to make sure no one else could hear her.  Eve blinked her eyes.  She wasn’t sure what kind of response she was expecting, exactly, but she realized that she hadn’t been expecting _this_ one.  But now she was more intrigued than ever.

“ _Really?_ ” she asked.  “I mean, he _is_ a lot older than you, I guess just assumed that he would be a little less...energetic?”  Cassandra frowned and looked askance at her Guardian.

“He’s not dead, Eve, just older,” she said chidingly.  Baird held up her hands in surrender, then loaded her fork with more waffle and marshmallow crème.

“Fair enough, Red, sorry,” she said.  She crammed the food into her mouth and began chewing, fixing her eyes on the younger woman as she talked around the mouthful of waffle.

“So...what’s he like, exactly?  You know—behind closed doors?” she asked in a low voice.  A sly smile lit up Cassandra’s face as she cut her own waffle.

“Oh, Eve, he’s _wonderful_!” she gushed, her eyes lighting up as she thought of her husband.  “Jenkins is so sweet, and romantic and passionate and gentle and tender!  He’s a little old-fashioned still about things like kissing in public, though.  And he absolutely refuses to use any slang or dirty words—he rarely even uses the word ‘sex’.  It’s always a ‘tryst’ or an ‘assignation’ or we’re ‘being intimate’.”  The young woman rolled her eyes a bit at her husband’s antiquated ways, but promptly continued to sing his praises. 

“He _loves_ to cuddle, especially...you know... _after_.  Sometimes he even holds me close and sings to me!”  Eve lowered her fork and dropped her shoulders, her head lolling to one side as she cast a dreamy look at the younger woman across the table.

“Aww, seriously?” she asked admiringly, unable to picture the crusty old Caretaker as a starry-eyed crooner.  “He actually _sings_ to you?  Omigod, that is _so_ sweet!  What does he sing?”

“Mostly old songs from the Middle Ages,” the Librarian answered.  “He says they’re troubadour love songs, though they’re all in foreign languages, so I really have no idea _what_ he’s singing to me unless I ask.  He has a really beautiful voice, too, I wish you could hear him sing sometime.”  She popped an errant blueberry into her mouth.

“Does Flynn ever sing to you?” she asked curiously.  Eve narrowed her eyes and stuck her fork into another piece of her waffle.

“He does, but he prefers to sing sea chanties,” the Guardian answered wryly, wrinkling her nose with distaste.

“Before or after?” asked Cassandra tentatively.

“During.”  The Librarian nearly choked on her waffle, then gaped, shocked, at Baird.

“Omigod, Eve— _please_ tell me you’re kidding!”  The tall blonde shook her head.

“Nope, totally serious, he says it helps keep him focused on his rhythm,” she said flatly.  “But, at least he likes to cuddle, too, so he’s got _that_ going for him.”  Eve leaned over her plate.

“Tell me, Cassandra—how often do you and Jenkins...?”  She shrugged one shoulder as she bobbed her head slightly.  Cassandra leaned far over her own plate so she could answer Eve discreetly.

“Five or six times a week.”

“ _What?_ ” Baird yelped loudly, dropping her fork onto her plate and bolting upright in her chair.  She instantly clapped her hand over her mouth and looked wide-eyed around the restaurant.  Fortunately, it didn’t appear that anyone else had heard her.  She turned back to face Cassandra.

“Five or six times a _week_?!” she whispered hoarsely.  “Are you _serious_?”  Cassandra glanced around nervously.

“On average, but sometimes more, sometimes less,” she said in a small voice, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.  “Sometimes it’s every day of the week, or sometimes it’s more than once a day.  It depends on if one of us is away on a mission.”  Eve felt her jaw drop.

“Is...that _too_ much?” asked the redhead anxiously, her bright blue eyes bugging wide.  “I mean…it never _seemed_ like too much to me, I...I thought everyone was like that...?”  Eve held up a hand.

“No!  No, Cassandra, it’s perfectly all right!  As long as you and Jenkins are okay with it, that’s all that matters.  Sorry I reacted like that, it’s just that…I’ve _never_ known _any_ couple to have so much sex!”

“But what about you and Flynn?” the Librarian questioned her.  “You guys have a lot of sex, too, don’t you?” 

“Well, yeah, but not _that_ much!” said Baird.  “You two are like...like... _porn stars_!”  Cassandra blushed furiously at Eve’s remark, and a thought suddenly struck the older woman.

“Wait—are you guys trying to have a baby?” she asked urgently in a low voice, her eyes wide again.  Now it was Cassandra’s turn to drop her fork

“God, NO!” she squawked, too shrilly.  A couple of other diners look at them for a moment, then went back to their own meals.  The Librarian picked up her fork and began  poking it into her food.

“Sorry.  Didn’t mean to shriek,” she apologized.  Eve smiled reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Red,” she said.  Cassandra’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, then dropped back to her plate.

“Jenkins cast a spell on himself,” she said quietly.  “It makes him permanently infertile, until he uses the counter spell.  Just so there wouldn’t be any accidents.”  She stopped playing with her food and laid the fork on the edge of her plate.  She kept her head down, staring blankly at her half-eaten waffles. 

“Cassandra, what’s wrong?” she asked, frowning in concern at the sudden downturn in the young woman’s mood.  “Are you upset with Jenkins for doing that?”

“No,” she answered weakly.  “Yes.  Maybe?”  She looked up into Eve’s dark blue eyes.  “I know he did that just for me, he knows _I_ don’t want children.”

“But...?” prodded Baird gently.  A small sigh escaped the Librarian.

“But I can’t help thinking that deep down inside, Jenkins _does_ want kids,” she confessed, her eyes troubled.  “He says that he’s okay with not having them, but sometimes I wonder if I’m just being selfish, that I’m keeping something from him that he really wants; what if some day he starts to resent me for it?  Starts to _hate_ me for it?”  Eve reached across the table and took hold of Cassandra’s hand.

“Jenkins could _never_ hate you, Cassandra, ever,” she said firmly.  “You’ve known each other for four years, now.  You’ve been through so much together.  And you’ve only grown closer, right?  You guys have obviously talked about this, and if Jenkins told you he’s okay with not starting a family with you, then believe him.  Jenkins might tell a little fib here and there to protect someone’s feelings, but he doesn’t lie about stuff like this, you know that.”  She squeezed the Librarian’s hand before letting it go and going back to work on her food.

“Yeah, you’re right,” the redhead agreed, sighing.  “I don’t know why I keep looking for something to be wrong; I should just be happy that everything’s finally going right for me, huh?”  Eve smiled as she swallowed a bit of waffle.

“It’s because you still think it’s all _too_ good to be true, Red; believe me, I know the feeling!” the Guardian said dourly.  Cassandra looked up from her plate.

“Really?”

“Yep,” Eve nodded.  “Every morning when I wake up and find Flynn still lying next to me, I can’t help but wonder, ‘Why is he still here?  Why does he love _me_ so much?  We have absolutely nothing in common.’  Even after everything we’ve been through, after everything we went through with Nicole in the other timeline, even though we’re actually _tethered_ now—sometimes I still wonder if he’s going wake up one morning and see me lying next to him and think, ‘Wow, I _really_ made a bad mistake here!’ and that’ll be the end of us.”  Her voice was quiet and reflective as she sat across from Cassandra and picked at her waffle. 

“That’s never going to happen, Eve,” the younger woman declared.  “Flynn’s crazy about you!  If he wasn’t, he _never_ would’ve allowed you to tether with him!”  A small smile spread across her face.  “And you have a _lot_ more in common with Flynn than I have with Jenkins—at least you two were born in the same _millennium_!”  Baird chuckled and dipped her head.

“Can’t argue with that!” she laughed, going back to what was left of her meal.  “I just hope _Flynn_ doesn’t get any crazy ideas about leaving the Library like Jenkins has, ‘cause I just don’t know what I would do with _that_!”  Cassandra’s head snapped up, her face displaying a stunned expression.

“ _What_?” she yelped.  “What’re you talking about?”  Eve froze for a few seconds, then her hand slowly moved to rest over her lips as her eyes widened in horror at the blunder she’d just made.

“Omigod, he never said anything to you,” she breathed, appalled to have made such a stupid mistake.  “God, Cassandra, I am _so_ sorry!” 

“Eve, _what_ are you talking about?  What did Jenkins say to you?  Tell me!” the Librarian demanded, her eyes now full of concern and alarm.  “ _Please_ , Eve!”  The Guardian heaved a quick sigh.

“Okay,” she capitulated.  “You remember several weeks ago when he was acting all squirrely and you asked me to talk to him?”  Cassandra nodded mutely.

“Well, one of the things he was upset about was what the Library did to you and to him in that other timeline,” she said morosely.  “He told me that he doesn’t fully trust the Library anymore, he’s afraid that something might happen in _this_ timeline to make the Library go crazy like it did in the other timeline, and he’s afraid the Library will try to hurt you.  He was talking then about leaving the Library for good and taking you with him, to protect you.”  Cassandra stared at Baird for several seconds, her mouth hanging open in astonishment.

“ _What?!_ ” she gasped, her bewilderment quickly turning to anger.  “He’s thinking of _leaving_?  Just like that?  Without even talking to me first?”  Eve held of her hands, shaking her head.

“No, no, _not_ just like that!” she said, coming to the old Caretaker’s defense.  “He said that he was going to talk to you about it, but _maybe_ , since he obviously hasn’t said anything to you, he’s changed his mind, and he just didn’t think it was necessary now to mention it to you.”  As Eve spoke, Cassandra was waving frantically for the waiter to bring their check.  After getting his attention and a nod of acknowledgment, Cassandra turned her attention back to Eve.

“Nothing personal, Eve,” she said, her temper clearly up.  “And I hate to be a wet blanket tonight, but I think I’d like to hear all of this straight from the horse’s ass!”  Eve frowned, her brow knitting in puzzlement.

“Don’t...you mean...‘the horse’s mouth’...?” she asked.  The Librarian snorted.

“I said what I meant!” she snapped, angrily digging her wallet out of her purse.  “Ooo, just wait ‘til I get my hands on him!”  Eve sighed quietly as she opened her own purse. 

_Crap_ , she thought.  _If Jenkins survives Hurricane Red, he’s gonna kill me!_

 

* * *

 

The Back Door of the Library whirred to life and the doors swung open to allow Eve and Cassandra to burst into the workroom.  Jenkins and Flynn Carsen were both studiously working at their own desks when the women returned from their ‘girls’ night out’.  Flynn jumped up from his desk and rushed over to Eve, giving her a tight hug and a quick kiss.

“Hey, you guys are home early!” he said, then caught the anxious look on his wife’s face.  “Something wrong, Eve?”  The tall blonde sighed.

“Just me and my big mouth,” she muttered, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of earshot of the fuming redhead.  Jenkins by now had replaced his quill back its holder and was coming from behind his tall desk to greet his own wife.  Franklin was draped over his shoulders, half-napping, but as soon as the redhead crossed the threshold the little dragon came to life and began to squeal happily in greeting.  Cassandra, however, ignored the dragon and glared daggers at Jenkins.  The tall man stopped in his tracks; he’d seen _that_ look enough times to know that he was in some kind of trouble.

“Jenkins, we need to talk.  NOW!”  The irritated Librarian turned without another word and stalked stiffly from the room, leaving the Caretaker bewildered and wary.  He turned a questioning look to Baird.  She shrugged helplessly.

“JENKINS!”  Cassandra’s shrill voice carried clearly from down the hallway leading to their suite of room.  Eve gave the immortal an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Jenkins!” Baird said quickly.  “It’s all my fault!”  She went over to him and gingerly removed the tea dragon, cuddling the squirming creature against her chest.  More confused than ever, Jenkins turned and strode quickly after his wife. 

He found her in their bedroom, standing in front of the window, her arms wrapped tightly over her stomach.  Jenkins closed the heavy door and crossed the room to stand behind her, placing his hands on her thin shoulders.  He immediately felt her muscles tense.

“Cassandra, what’s wrong, my dear?” he asked with concern, leaning forward to kiss her head.  His wife pulled her head away sharply and hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath as she continued to stare out of the window.

“Eve said that the two of you had a talk a while ago.  She said that you told her that you were thinking of leaving the Library.” 

Now it was the Caretaker who tensed up behind her, and it was several seconds before he said anything.

“I wish she hadn’t told you about that,” he commented cautiously.  “It was only something that I was considering; when she and I spoke I hadn’t made a firm decision.”  Cassandra turned so she could face him.

“So then you’re not thinking of leaving now?” she asked.  Jenkins dropped his gaze, unable to look his wife in the eyes.

“I still haven’t decided one way or the other yet, really.  I _was_ going to talk to you about it, eventually.  When I was ready.”  Cassandra stared at him in disbelief.

“When you were _ready_?” she repeated with suspicion.  “When was _that_ going to be, Jenkins?  As you were packing our belongings into the station wagon?!”  The young woman threw her hands up into the air in frustration. 

“You’re seriously thinking about leaving the Library?  _Why_?” she demanded.  “Were you thinking of leaving _me_ behind, too?  Eve says no, but maybe you’ve changed your mind about _that_ since then—and I want to hear the truth!”  Her voice was now filled with the hurt and dismay that she was feeling; Jenkins grabbed her hands in his, the immortal’s dark eyes suddenly ablaze.

“I would _never_ leave you behind, Cassandra!” he said fiercely, looking her hard in the eyes.  “Don’t _ever_ think that!  I will _never_ abandon you!  You are my wife, we are Sealed for all eternity!  I love you more than my own life; _wherever_ you are, that is where _I_ will be!”  He squeezed her hands tightly to emphasize his point.  Chastened, the Librarian dropped her gaze.

“I’m sorry, Jenkins, I didn’t mean to sound like that, I was just…”  She shook her head and looked up again.  “But why would you even think of leaving the Library in the first place?”  It was Jenkins’s turn to look away for a moment.

“Because of what happened to us in the other timeline,” he answered, the fire in his brown eyes doused by anxiety.  “Because part of me has been having trouble trusting the Library since the Lamp of Memory showed those memories to me.  Because I don’t want to risk you getting hurt—or worse—by the Library.”  Cassandra’s face took on a look of sympathy as understanding began to dawn on her.

“This has to do with the nightmares you’ve been having.”  It was a statement rather than a question.  “You’re still having nightmares about the Trial of the One.”

“Yes,” he said simply.  “As have you, I think.  We’ve never really sat down and talked about any of what happened...over there.”  Cassandra looked down and nodded her head slightly.

“I know.  I guess I’ve been sort of afraid to, part of me just wants to forget it ever happened,” she said.  She looked up at the tall Caretaker with serious blue eyes. 

“What do you dream about the most?”  A terrible sorrow filled Jenkins’s expression.  He took her hand, led her over to the bed and sat down; Cassandra followed his lead and perched uneasily on the edge of the large bed, facing him.

“I dream about what I did to you, to the others,” he said.  “All of the terrible things I did and said to you, the suffering I caused. How helpless I felt when I couldn’t stop any of it.”  He paused a moment, his eyes beginning to shine with tears.

“I dream of when I died, how I felt at the prospect of leaving you so soon after finding you.”  He swallowed hard.  “I dream about the pain I saw in your eyes and how that was the last thing I saw in this life—your sad, tear-stained face.  I tried to make you smile one last time with a silly joke.  Hearing your voice, crying and calling my name.  The screaming when you realized I was gone.  It…”  He had to stop for a moment and compose himself.

“The pain I felt over that was far worse than anything a dagger could inflict.”  He squeezed Cassandra’s hand and patted it.

“And what of you, my dear?  What do you dream about?”

“I don’t have the nightmares as much as I used to,” she said dully.

“Do you still dream about the bullying?” he asked gently, and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Sometimes,” she admitted.  “Mostly I’m the same as you, I dream about when you...  That urn...” She couldn’t finish the sentence, emotion choking off her words.  When she looked up again, her eyes were swimming with tears.

“It’s my fault that it all happened, Jenkins,” she whispered shakily.  “It’s my fault, and I’m so sorry!”  She dropped her eyes and, grasping his hand with both of hers, brought it up to her lips.  She kissed the back of his hand, then held it against her warm cheek.  Tears ran silently over his fingers.

“It’s not your fault, Cassandra,” he tried to tell her, but his words only drew a harsh sob from his young wife.

“It _is_ my fault!” she cried.  “If only I’d left that stupid scroll alone!  You _told_ us not to touch it, you told us to leave it alone!  But I just _had_ to read it, I just _had_ to know what it said!  And then, when I thought it was a quick, easy way of selecting a Librarian to tether with Eve, I made Jacob read it and created the whole mess!  None of the Trial would’ve happened if it hadn’t been for me, and I’m so sorry, Jenkins!  _I’m so sorry!_   I was selfish and thought I knew better than you, and it’s all my fault that you got killed and the Library died!” 

She was sobbing uncontrollably, nearly hysterical, hunched over herself and crying so hard that she was gasping for air.  Stricken, Jenkins took her in his arms and held her tightly, rocking with the distraught woman lightly as he tried to soothe her.  It was several minutes before she could regain her composure enough to continue speaking.

“I just keep seeing you lying on that table, all that blood all over you!  I keep feeling your hand grabbing onto my arm, I keep hearing you say those things to us!  It’s like it just happened yesterday, and it feels like that knife goes straight into _my_ heart every single time!”  The young woman began to cry again, her small body racked with misery. 

“I hated the Library so much for that, too, for what it did to you and taking you away from me!” she suddenly hissed with fury, her head whipping up.  “Sometimes I think I _still_ hate it, because I’m afraid to trust it, too.  I know that _this_ Library isn’t the same as the one in the other timeline, but what if something happened to make it turn on us, and it _did_ do something like that to you again?  Or what if it just decided one day to kill you somehow for some reason?”  Cassandra’s anger turned to desolation as she looked into her husband’s eyes.

“Oh, God, Jenkins… _what would I do_?  I can’t even _think_ about a life without you in it!  I don’t _want_ to think about it!  I wouldn’t even want to live anymore!  I _couldn’t_ live without you—I’d kill myself first!”  She broke down again, the shocked Caretaker struggling with tears himself, held her tightly against his chest.  He castigated himself for being such a selfish fool, too absorbed in his own pain to truly see how deeply traumatized _she_ had been all these months.

“Cassandra, don’t say things like that, _please_!” he groaned into her hair.  “Don’t even _think_ things like that!  If you ever…harmed yourself…on _my_ account…”  He couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.  He knew she was absolutely capable of carrying out such a threat.  He’d been horrified to learn that when she was first diagnosed with the brain tumor, she’d chosen a date on which she planned to take her own life, wanting to die on her own terms.  The only thing that stopped her was the unexpectedly fast growth of the tumor itself.  Jenkins hugged her even more tightly as the sickening idea embedded itself in his mind.  He pushed her away, his hands grasping her shoulders tightly. 

“Promise me, Cassandra, _right now_ —promise me that you’ll _never_ harm yourself if something happens to me!” he begged her, shaking her slightly in his urgency.  “Swear to me!” 

The Librarian looked up into his pleading brown eyes.  She opened her mouth to respond, but something in those eyes caught her attention.  Something like…guilt?  Shame?  What would Jenkins have to feel guilty about?  Asking her to promise not to commit suicide?  But why should that be something to feel guilty about?  As she stared more intently into his eyes, Cassandra felt something within her—not pain, not fear—something more…benevolent.  Something like a thought quickly formed itself in her mind, but she realized that it wasn’t _her_ thought.  It was like a voice, it sounded like Jenkins, sounded like it was calling from deep within her own brain. 

_I will kill myself when Cassandra dies._

_The Tree_ , she realized with a start, feeling the blood drain from her face.  Jenkins had told her that the magic of their Sealing would give them the ability to sense each other’s feelings and thoughts, especially if those feelings or thoughts were born out of strong emotions; that must be what she was experiencing right now.  She had just heard one of Jenkins’s own thoughts, but from within _her_ mind.  But surely she was only imagining this; Jenkins would never do that.  He _couldn’t_ kill himself even if wanted to, it was literally impossible…

As if in response, an image flashed through her mind’s eye:  Koschi’s Needle in Jenkins’s hands, its blade gleaming as he pulled it free of its sheath.

Cassandra felt a dark, emptiness open up inside of her.  She turned stunned, gaping eyes onto the Caretaker’s face.

“You’re planning to kill _yourself_ when _I_ die!” she whispered, aghast, moving away from the immortal and out of his grasp.  “You have the nerve to try and make _me_ promise not to take my own life, but the whole time _you’re_ planning to use Koschi’s Needle to kill yourself!”  She saw confirmation in his wide, guilt-stricken eyes.  He quickly covered his composure, making his face blank and unreadable as he pulled himself up straight.

“I see that you’re learning to utilize the bond between us,” he said quietly as he dropped his gaze.  “I knew I couldn’t keep such a thing from you for too long, but I didn’t expect you to pick up on it quite so quickly.  You truly are gifted magically to be able to do so this soon after a Sealing.” 

“Jenkins, why?” she exclaimed.  “ _Why_ would you want to do that?”  He looked up again.

“For the same reason you would contemplate doing it upon _my_ death,” he retorted, more harshly than he’d intended.  “ _I_ don’t want a life without _you_ in it, Cassandra!  I literally have an eternity of life ahead of me; I…I can’t bear the thought of going through it alone, without you!”

“But you said that our Sealing would keep us from being separated, even after death!” she protested, and he sighed heavily.

“And that’s true,” he tried to explain.  “But I will only be able to feel your presence, your _spirit_ , if you will—I won’t be able see you or speak to you or touch you, I won’t be able to interact with you in any definite way.  For a mortal who knows that they will die relatively soon, that might not be so difficult to endure, it might even be a comfort.  But for an _immortal_ …?”  Pain filled his brown eyes. 

“I can’t think of a worse torture, Cassandra,” he said, desolate.  “It would be even worse than…”  He laid his hand over his left forearm, over the horrific scar that marked one of the worst tortures he had ever been subjected to in his many centuries of life.  “I’d much rather join you in the afterlife than to try and live in a world for countless centuries without you in it.”

“But I don’t want that for you, Jenkins,” she protested, shaking her head as fresh tears filled her eyes.  “I don’t want you to throw your life away, not for me!  I don’t want you to shut yourself up in the Annex again, either!  You have so much to give to others—to other Librarians, other Guardians, other people in general!  I want you to go on living!  I want you to meet someone else and fall in love, have children if you want…”  The tall Caretaker leaned forward and seized her shoulders again.

“I’ve told you already, Cassandra—there will be no one after you!” he declared, his voice rasping as he looked directly into her blue eyes.  “ _No one_!  You fill up my heart, my soul, completely!  There’s no room for anyone else now, there never will be!  I simply _cannot_ bear the thought of living without you, my love—I simply… _can’t_!”  The Librarian stared up into his face, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

“You can’t live without me, but you expect _me_ to live without _you_?” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she shook her head slightly.  “Do you really think that I won’t miss you just as much, just because I’m mortal?  Because you’re _wrong_ , Jenkins—you are _so_ wrong!”  She twisted her body out of his grasp for a second time and stood up, moving away from him.

“If you want me to make a promise like the one you’re asking for, Jenkins, then _you_ have to promise me the same thing first!”  she said, steel suddenly in her voice now as she spun around to glare at him.  “I mean it, Jenkins—you have to swear to me _right now_ that _you_ won’t hurt _yourself_ when _I_ die!” 

The immortal, a flummoxed look on his face, tried wildly to find some argument, some loophole, a way out for himself while still making _her_ promise to him binding, but he could find nothing.  If he truly wanted Cassandra to live, he had to promise to live as well.  With a look of utter dejection, he had no choice but to concede defeat.

“I promise,” he murmured, looking sadly into her eyes. 

“Swear it to me, on your honor as a knight of the Round Table!” she commanded hoarsely, and he visibly flinched.  She had him, and she knew it; she knew he would never even _try_ to violate such an oath.  He closed his eyes for a moment.  Slowly he stood, pulled himself up straight and placed his right hand over his heart, his face now blank but his brown eyes full of anguish as he opened them to look down into her expectant face.

“I, Galahad of Camelot, swear by my honor as a knight of the Round Table of King Arthur that I will never attempt to take my own life upon the death of my wife, Cassandra Jenkins, so help me God,” he declared in a clear, firm voice.  He lowered his hand and his eyes instantly turned to stone.

“Satisfied?” he asked with bitter edge to his voice.  Cassandra nodded.  He lowered his white head, his eyes still locked on hers.

“Now you,” he ordered.  “Swear to me on _your_ honor as a Librarian that you will not harm yourself should you outlive _me_.”  Cassandra stood up straight and pulled her shoulders back, lifting her head to gaze unflinchingly at him.  She raised her right hand and made her oath.

“I, Cassandra Cillian Jenkins, swear on my honor as a Librarian that I will _never_ attempt to take my own life upon the death of my husband, Galahad of Camelot, so help me God.”  She then lowered her hand, and the two of them stood silently for a moment, staring at each other, neither of them sure what to do next. 

It was Cassandra who broke the stalemate.  She rushed toward her husband and threw her arms around him, clinging to him tightly.  Jenkins put his arms around her and returned her embrace.

“I’m sorry, Jenkins, I don’t mean to hurt you,” she said, her voice full of remorse.  “But I can’t let you do something like that, not for me.  I don’t know what it’s like on the other side, whether souls can see or hear or feel what goes on in this world with their loved ones.  But if they can, I know it would tear me to ribbons on the inside to know that you took your own life because of me.”  The immortal moved one hand up to rest on the back of her head and stroked her long, soft curls, kissing the top of her head.

“I’m sorry, too, my love,” he whispered into her hair.  “I never meant to hurt you, either.

“I know it’ll be hard for you, at first,” she said, looking up into his sad face.  She reached up and brushed her husband’s pale, soft cheek.  “I know you’ll grieve, but you’ll recover, in time.  You’ll go on living.  Your end will come soon enough, sweetheart, and when it does, I’ll be waiting for you.  Then we’ll be together _forever_.”  Jenkins painfully swallowed against the large knot in his throat as he looked down into Cassandra’s earnest face.

“Do you promise?” he asked shakily, trying to sound lighthearted but succeeding only in sounding inconsolable.  Cassandra gave him a wan smile even as a pair of tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.  He tenderly brushed them away with the back of his long finger.

“I promise,” she whispered.

They held each other close for several long minutes, saying nothing.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, they resumed their normal routine, neither of them speaking of what occurred the evening before.  They went to bed early last night, but neither could sleep.  They spent the long, quiet hours of the night holding and trying to comfort each other with soft words, gentle caresses and small kisses.  Those soon became more intense, more needy, until it finally ended with them making love, their joining far more desperate and clinging than passionate.  Afterward they lay tangled in each other’s arms, both of them silently lost in their own thoughts for the rest of the night.  As dawn started to color the eastern horizon, they finally gave up on sleep altogether and rose, much earlier than usual.  After a somewhat tense and desultory breakfast, Jenkins excused himself, telling her that he was going to the lab to check on some ongoing experiments.  Cassandra picked up an armload of books from her desk and informed her husband that she was going to go to the stacks to reshelve them, then she would join him in the lab.

As soon as Jenkins was out of sight, the Librarian dumped the books onto the nearest reading table and made a beeline for the Special Collections Vault of the Library, where the most dangerous artifacts were stored.  She cast the security counter-spell to lift the protection spells Judson put into place ages ago, then unlocked the Vault and hauled open the heavy, thick, magically-enhanced steel door.  Snapping on the light, she started to peruse the shelves until she found what she was looking for:  A long, heavy-bladed dagger with a silver, bejeweled hilt, sheathed in black leather.  Koschi’s Needle.

Cassandra stared at the hateful weapon for several seconds, then, her face hardening with hate, she snatched it from its display and bolted from the Vault, pausing just long enough to push the door to the Vault shut and reset its locking mechanism, then recast the protection spells.

She turned and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, down to the Catacombs of the Library, where they had defeated Apep over a year ago now.  She ran over the causeway and out onto the platform that jutted out over a bottomless abyss, breathing hard by the time she reached her destination.  As she paused to catch her breath, she looked once more at the dagger in her hand. 

_Damn you, Nicole!_ she thought bitterly, remembering how the traitorous Guardian had used this very dagger to trick Jenkins into giving up his immortality in the other timeline.  He’d been so frightened and disoriented at first, though he would never admit to it, not even to Cassandra.  But he had been so overwhelmed by all of the new things he was feeling and experiencing for the first time in centuries, he refused to leave their rooms for three days.  Seeing her normally strong, fearless husband suddenly so vulnerable and unsure of himself had torn the Librarian’s heart in two. 

She tightened her grip on the dagger and cocked her arm back.  With all her strength, she hurled the cursed weapon into the pit, screaming like a Fury as she did so.  The dagger glinted in the light for a moment, and then was swallowed up by the darkness below, safely out of reach of Librarians and Caretakers alike for all time.  Safely out of the reach of Jenkins.

Cassandra took a deep breath and exhaled in satisfaction.  She turned to start back to the Annex, and shrieked loudly in surprise as she discovered the somber form of Jenkins standing on the platform a few feet away, blocking her path to the causeway, his hands jammed into the pockets of his trousers.

“Do you truly have so little faith in my word, Cassandra?” he asked solemnly.  The Librarian met his gaze, unintimidated.

“Just hedging my bets,” she said, and the immortal chuckled humorlessly.

“Spoken like a true Librarian, my dear,” he said, taking a few steps toward her.  “I fear Mr. Carsen is having an unwholesome influence on you.”  He came to a halt, standing directly in front her.  He regarded her with tired, dull eyes the color of old leather.

“Do you truly have so little trust in me?” he asked.  Her expression relaxed when she heard the hint of pain in his voice.

“Grieving people do impulsive things sometimes, they don’t think clearly,” she replied gently.  Jenkins pulled a hand from its pocket and rubbed his chin and throat absently as he raised his head, as though he were suddenly interested in something on the ceiling.

“Ah,” he said acidly.  “Of course; your intention is merely to save me from myself.  Well done.”  Cassandra decided to let the barb pass.  She closed the space between them and took his hand.  She gripped it tightly, taking him aback.  The young Librarian tipped her face up and stared defiantly into her husband’s eyes.

“I will do whatever I have to do to protect you, Jenkins, even from yourself,” she declared in a steady voice.  “I’ve already killed to protect you, and I’ll do it again if I have to.  And I _know_ that you feel the same way about me.”  Her face became more gentle, more anxious, as she spoke.

“Sometimes it scares me how much we love each other.  Like, it can’t possibly be real or normal to feel like this about someone, people can’t possibly love each other like this…can they?”

“But we _do_ ,” Jenkins replied as he moved to her and put his hands on her waist.  “And it’s not the magic of the Tree that makes us love each other so intensely, it would be there even without that magic.  We were fated to be together, Cassandra, something in my heart tells me that.  How else can we explain finding one another?  Do you know the odds of something like that happening by random chance?”  A wry smile came to her face.

“Actually, I do,” she said, sliding her arms around his middle and pulling him close.  “That’s why I don’t want anything to poison it, Jenkins, I don’t want to risk doing anything to destroy our love.  Nothing!”  She looked up into his solemn face.

“That’s what it would feel like to me if you took your own life when I die, like that would somehow taint our love.”  She reached up to stroke his face.

“We’ll think of something, sweetheart, we’ll work this out!  We have all the resources of the Library at our fingertips, all kinds of magic and artifacts—there must be _something_ here that we can use to even things out between us, even just a little bit!  We just can’t give up!  And I refuse to leave it up to the Fates!”  The Librarian the grabbed both of the tall Caretaker’s lapels and gave him a small shake as she stared up at him, her blue eyes glittering with a sudden ferocity.

“They may have brought us together,” she declared.  “But I’ll fight them to the death if they try to separate us now!”  Jenkins smiled, then threw back his head and laughed, genuinely heartened by his wife’s spirited determination.  He slid his arms completely around her small waist and kissed her high, smooth forehead fondly.

“Mr. Carsen will be furious when we tell him what you’ve done with such an irreplaceable artifact,” he reminded her. 

“I don’t care!” she retorted.  Jenkins was safe now, that’s all that mattered, and even Flynn would probably agree with her once she explained to him _why_ she did it.  Jenkins chuckled again.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look when you’re feisty?” he asked playfully.  She smiled as she snuggled her body into his.

“I don’t know about you, but I could go back to bed,” she murmured, running her hands up his back as she fought against a yawn.  “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”  Jenkins lightly rested his chin on the top of her head, closed his eyes.

“Nor did I,” he said, his low baritone vibrating through her.  “Why don’t we go back to our room and try to get some?” 

“When you say ‘try to get some’, are you referring to sleep or sex?” she teased, turning her head so she could look up at him.

“Yes,” he rumbled, deadpan.

The Librarian laughed as they turned their backs on the abyss and began to make to their way back to the Annex, their arms comfortably slung around each other.  As they walked along the causeway, Cassandra suddenly squeaked and lightly slapped the tall man’s arm with excitement.

“Ooh!  Jenkins!  Just wait til you hear what Eve told me about Flynn and sea chanties…!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading!


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